


Dusty Rose

by mikeymomoo



Category: The 1975 (Band), Years & Years (Band)
Genre: Gay, M/M, but george is the sun and fizes everything so dont worry, camboy matty, camboy olly, george is a rich photographer, george is gay, im gay, its gay, matty and olly have a bad relationship, matty is gay, nick used to love matty its a bit messy, olly is gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 22:11:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7592227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikeymomoo/pseuds/mikeymomoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matty Healy is a camboy; George Daniel is a fairly well-off photographer, and an avid viewer of Matty's shows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Matty Healy had two fingers in his ass, sitting on his knees with his bum popped out, keeping himself upright with his spare hand resting on the rose pink bedsheets. The external webcam that he had connected to his laptop was sitting on a chair by his bed, and he could see himself on his laptop screen to make sure he was properly in frame.

He was side-on to the camera so that it was capturing his profile and the movement of his fingers was clearly visible to the audience as he rocked his hips back and forth, throwing his head back with a gasping moan when he brushed his prostate. He had the mic positioned a little closer to him than the webcam, just out of shot, so that it could pick up his little moans of "daddy" and various swear words as he began to sweat.

Matty pushed himself up using the hand on the bed, sitting up properly on his knees so that he could wrap his left hand around his dick, keeping it still for a moment. He looked over at the camera with half-closed eyes before making a concerted effort to speak.

"Can I touch myself, daddy?"

It was the weekend, and in the evening, so Matty wasn't surprised by how many people there were watching his show tonight. As he spoke, the chat filled with people telling him to touch himself - _pretend it's me; do it, you deserve it; you've been such a good boy love._

Matty felt a blush creep into his cheeks at the praise he received from the chat, beginning to tug at himself slowly. "Thank you, daddy - ah, _fuck_ -" As he spoke, he could hear the ka-ching of the website telling him that he'd hit his goal of one hundred quid for the night, and he grinned shamelessly at the sound.

He began to speed up his arm movements, using his wrist to twist his hand around the head, bucking his hips up into his grip and then back down onto his fingers, pushing them against his prostate and gasping at the unruly sensation. His hair was dancing across his face, the soft curls brushing against his rosy cheeks, prompting him to flick his head to get it out his face as he realised his features were being totally obscured from the camera's view.

Shortly after flicking his hair out his face, Matty fell forwards onto the mattress, twisting his face to the camera as he fell. He kept his hips high in the air so that his dick and ass were still properly visible to the camera, and his eyes squeezed shut at the overwhelming sensations of his hand on his dick coupled with the constant pressure of his warm fingers against his prostate. 

Within a few short minutes of lying in this position, his whines and moans barely even exaggerated for the camera, Matty was letting go of his cock as he released onto the dusty pink bed sheets, putting more pressure on his prostate as he free hand clenched in the air. He gasped at the slight oversensitivity he was already feeling, letting the breath out in a long, high-pitched whine as he dragged his fingers out his arse, relaxing his body for a second before forcing himself upright into a sitting position.

"Thank you for watching, guys. That all good?"

Matty smiled weakly at his rasping voice, enjoying the floods of people telling him how well he did and how good they made him feel. "Thank you, that's very kind. See you next time, then." He blew a kiss at the camera before shutting off the stream and closing down the camboys website he used.

He unplugged his laptop from the webcam, and stood up from the double bed, straightening out the covers before realising they needed washing. He'd sort that out later. Matty stretched once he was on his feet, standing on his tip toes and pushing his chest out, before spinning around to leave the room. He would shower, and then come back to sort the mess out.

On his way out of his bedroom, he unhooked the silky, lilac dressing down from its place on the back of the door, slipping it over his arms and revelling in the soft strokes of the material against his skin. He tied it loosely for George's sake: the younger boy might not mind what Matty did in his spare time (in fact, Matty was pretty sure he'd heard George watching replays of his streams once in a blue moon), but he certainly didn't need to see the real thing wandering around their flat.

"I'm getting in the shower, George. Do you want the loo first?" Matty called out through their flat, hearing what sounded like a muffled negative response. "Alright, mate."

He locked the bathroom door behind him, leaning around the shower screen to start the shower before jumping out the way, letting the water warm up. Shrugging off the skimpy dressing gown, he fiddled with his hair, gazing at himself in the mirror as it began to steam up.

Matty turned his body around, leaving his eyes focussed on the mirror to gaze at his back as he stepped to the shower, looking away from himself when his knees his the side of the bath. He dragged himself into the bath, cringing as his feet hit the still-cool acrylic, and reached a hand out into the shower to test the temperature. Satisfied, he turned around to face away from it, and shimmied back underneath the jets, feeling the water soak through his hair and drip down his spine.

He ran his fingers through his hair, catching them on knots as he did so, before leaning down to pick up George's shampoo from the corner of the bath - he had run out a few weeks ago, and kept forgetting to buy more when he and George went shopping. He squeezed a little into his palm, snapping the cap shut before rubbing it through his hair, squinting as the soapy water got in his eyes.

Matty enjoyed being a camboy, he really did: it hadn't been what he'd _always wanted to do_ , but after he dropped out of school after GCSEs and basically bummed around doing nothing except take shitty, pretentious photos for three years, he found it tricky to get a 'proper' job. He worked part time in a little café called Tea Inc, down a little alley in town. It was pretty relaxed, their clientele composing mainly of older women and the occasional hipster. It, like his photography, was fairly pretentious, but quite a nice place to work.

He only had to go in three days a week, sometimes four if he had to cover someone, meaning he didn't earn an awful lot, and he had a lot of spare time. Honestly, if it hadn't been for George paying most of the rent until Matty had started camming, he'd barely have been able to afford a flat.

George had been lovely about the whole thing: he had stayed on to do his A-levels when Matty dropped out, so Matty had (loosely) lived with his mum for the three years of George finishing GCSEs and moving on to A-level, though the second he could drive he went on frequent road trips, sleeping in his car in laybys. When George got a full-time job after his exams that paid fairly well for his first job - a grand or so over minimum wage - he had begun to rent a flat that _happened_ to have a spare room which he offered to Matty immediately the next time he saw the boy.

It was only when Matty had moved in with George that he'd found any motivation to get a job at all: he no longer wanted to run away for 5 days a week because he was with his best friend, so he was grounded enough to make a commitment like a job. He had spent a weekend walking around shops with George at his side, looking for anyone that would take him for almost any job. There had been a few places that took him in for an interview, but none that wanted him in the end.

Tea Inc had been something of a last resort: George thought he could remember going on a date with some boy there once, and seeing a sign for part time staff being needed, and he figured no one would have applied. As it had turned out, George's shitty little date had been the thing that got Matty a job. The women who worked there were a bit skeptical, at first, of the boy with shoulder-length curly hair and the tightest jeans they'd ever come across, but they had been desperate enough for a little extra help that they figured he'd do.

He had his off-days at work, sure: sometimes he wasn't really up for making the same Lady Grey tea and listening to the droning conversations of old women chatting about methods of cake making and village fetes, but on the whole, he'd been alright at interacting with customers and persuading them to take a refill. Matty had become quite the his with the younger customers, unsurprisingly, in the year or so that he had worked there, and after a few months, there were certainly some more interesting conversations from the vegans and hipsters that visited than there had been from the older crowd previously.

Of course, the old women didn't stop coming, and there were no where near as many young and attractive people visiting than the old ladies, but Matty appreciated having something nice to look at.

Matty ran his hands over his body and around his ribs, lathering the coconut shower gel and inhaling the scent mixing with steam. He rinsed himself off, clicking his neck as he enjoyed the comforting heat of the shower before pushing the button to turn it off and swiping his hands down his limbs to rid himself of excess water before stepping out.

"Fucking hell, George." It was when Matty got out the shower that he realised there was only a hand towel on the racks - fine for his hair, but not that much use. "George, mate," he called, hoping the younger man would hear him through the door. "Can you get me a towel?"

He heard George groan, and then the airing cupboard next to the bathroom open. "Come on, then, Matty." Matty opened the door halfway, reaching his hand out to take the towel from George, who draped it over his slowly dripping arm. "You could've got it yourself, mate."  
  


"Would've got water on the floor, and _you're_ the one who didn't replace it after you took the towel last night. You and your fucking baths, George, I swear to god."

George smirked at Matty, who now had his free hand on his hip - not the George could see, Matty was being somewhat modest with his positioning of the door - rolling his eyes before walking away. "Drama queen."

Matty huffed a little before wrapping the warm towel around himself and drying off with the hand towel wrapped around his head.

He left the bathroom with his silky dressing gown untied, flouncing out of the room and past George a little brattily if he was honest, the already very short dressing gown flying up as he walked without the tie to keep it down. George raised an eyebrow at his behaviour, not really bothered but a little confused about why Matty was getting so haughty about a fucking towel.

When he returned to his bedroom, Matty quickly stripped his duvet of its rose pink cover, leaving it in the laundry basket in the hallway and grabbing a new one from the airing cupboard. As he put the fresh sheets on the duvet, the familiar sound of a Skype notification played, causing Matty to fling his head around to face his laptop reflexively.

_[20:17:42] olly:_ _hey, love. great show tonight x_

Matty smiled, a light blush forming across his pale cheeks as he replied.

_[20:18:26] mmmatty:_ _cheers :) you wanna call tonight?_

_[20:18:40] olly:_ _course i do_

Matty hit the call button, Olly picking up after a few rings with his webcam on, wearing a baggy shirt - Matty couldn't tell what else, but he suspected that might be it.

"You not coming on cam?" Olly frowned at Matty's profile picture, wondering why he'd be shy tonight.

"My hair looks like shit." Matty giggled a little through his words, his eyes flickering between the image of Olly and the shitty inbuilt webcam, despite it being off. "Not like you haven't seen me already today."

Olly lifted his eyebrows, cocking his head to the side a little. "I was hoping you could go again. Just for me." He smirked a little as he spoke before shifting the laptop back slightly so that Matty could see he had his dick in his hand.

"I - you know I would normally, Olly, I just - I don't think I'm up for it right now." Matty was stupidly thankful now that he hadn't turned his webcam on; he was certain Olly wouldn't be too thrilled with the look of disgust on his face at his boyfriend's blunt attitude.

"You don't have to do anything, love, just - just talk to me, yeah?"

"No, Olly. Tomorrow maybe."

Olly sighed heavily, turning his webcam off. "I'll be back in a minute."

Matty bit his lip, feeling a little bad for turning Olly down - he was his boyfriend, after all, and he was a camboy: Matty felt he should have expected this sort of behaviour from Olly since the start of their relationship, particularly since Olly was also a camboy. The kind that would probably do anything if someone with enough money asked him nicely enough.

He took the time without Olly there to wander across the small room to his drawers, opening the top one, reserved for underwear, socks, and tops he would never wear in public. He pulled out some band shirt that he was pretty sure George had given him in about year ten when he grew out of it and figured it would fit Matty, even though it was still about two sizes too big at the time - only one size too big, now, which was nice. Matty took comfort in being almost the same size as fourteen-year-old George.

He shrugged off the dressing gown, hooking it back onto his bedroom door and tugging the shirt over his head. It seemed to still smell of George, though Matty knew that was either his imagination or the fact that George was a lot more responsible than him, despite having less free time than Matty, and was normally the one to get the washing done.

Matty flopped back onto the bed, enjoying the little bounce of the mattress as he landed, considering turning his webcam on for when Olly got back, but deciding to see if Olly still wanted him to. He lay parallel to the laptop as it perched on his chair, with his head turned to the left to watch the screen. He wrenched his gaze away to look at his fingers, playing with his hands and running his thumbnail under his other nails to get rid of any little bits of dirt.

"Hey, love. You still there?"

Matty hummed, hoping his mic would pick it up as Olly's cam flickered back on.

"I'm sorry about that, Matty. It was really rude of me to expect that of you."

"It's okay." Matty shrugged slightly despite knowing Olly couldn't see, and rolled onto his side to gaze at his boyfriend.

"Forgive me?"

"Course."

"Cam?"

  
Matty giggled slightly, happy to see that Olly really did just want to _see_ him, and leaned forwards to turn his webcam on. His position with his legs bent slightly had his slightly baggy shirt rising up his bum, a sliver of the pale flesh exposed to his boyfriend along with his thighs. The shirt had drooped enough to cling to his waist, showing off the slight curve at his hip, and Olly couldn't help but smile to himself at how _stunning_ Matty looked like this.

The corners of Matty's mouth twitched up again at the sight of Olly's smile, and he shuffled down the bed slightly so that his face was properly in view. He had his hair pushed back away from his face, but there were still a few strands dangling down his face, the damp curls tickling his lip pleasantly. The movement caused his top to crinkle up his body a little more, just below his hip, and to Olly's disappointment, Matty felt it happen and smoothed it back down his leg a little, recovering his modesty just in time.

"Your hair doesn't look like shit, you know."

Matty rolled his eyes, turning his face into the duvet, leaving Olly with a stunning view of his mop of hair. "Shut up," he murmured into the bed, turning back to face Olly wish a bashful smile on his lips.

"It could never look shit with a face like that, love. You're gorgeous, you know that."

He chuckled a little at Olly's compliment, unable to avoid the blush growing across his face once more. "Thank you."

Matty tucked his hair behind his ear once more, finding that his movement had caused it to fall in front of his face frustratingly.

"I do wish I could meet you, Matty."

"We don't live _that_ far away, it's only a two hour train. We could do it, you know?"

Olly nodded, slowly. "We could. Maybe one day, love."

"Maybe one day."

Matty quickly became sleepy about an hour after the end of a show, when the adrenaline of being watched by a few hundred strangers wore off and he realised how much energy he had used entertaining them, and within half an hour of Olly coming back from having a wank, Matty was about ready to sleep.

"Weak, Matty."

"I know." He grinned, rolling onto his back. "Need to sleep though."

"I know." Olly blew Matty a kiss before ending the call, wishing him a good night in the chat and promptly going offline. It was all Matty could do to find the energy to close his laptop and crawl underneath his duvet, curling up with a cushion in his arms and wishing it was a person to share body heat with.


	2. Chapter 2

Matty didn't particularly _enjoy_ working in Tea Inc: it wasn't a bad job, and everyone there was very lovely, Matty supposed, but it was _dull_. Of course, comparatively to his cam shows, most every job would seem boring and monotonous, and at least there were always different people in the little café.

Plus, since Matty had worked there, George had developed a taste for their green tea. He wasn't generally a fan, but he claimed that the flavour of Tea Inc's green tea was more than tolerable compared to shop bought. And so, whenever George had a day off when Matty was working, he would pop in at the end of Matty's shift, buy himself a green tea, and walk Matty home.

Really, it was a gesture that had been a recurring theme throughout their friendship: at school, whenever one of the boys had had a free period at the end of the day and the other hadn't, they would go to the other's last lesson and wait outside the classroom for them to finish so that they could walk home together.

If Matty and George were honest with themselves, they would appreciate how _amazing_ it was that their friendship had lasted so long: now seven years strong, and with little more than the very occasional bump in the road along the way.

Today had been busier than usual in Tea Inc, especially given that it was a Tuesday and Matty had been on the morning shift. Admittedly, he had stayed on until after lunch, when people came in on their lunch breaks for a break with some pretentiously fancy tea, but there were rarely more than five people in the café at once, and Matty had counted seven at one point today.

Despite this newfound lack of boredom due to so many customers, Matty was incredibly grateful when George slipped through the door, the little silver bell tinkling gently, signifying the end of his shift. Matty tried not to keep an eye on the time when he knew George would come in; once he looks at the clock once, he looks every five minutes and the day takes about seven years.

George smirked as they made eye contact, sauntering over to his friend, who was already boiling the see-through kettle for George's green tea.

"How's it been today, Matty? Looks busy."

"Lots to do, I suppose. It's gone by fast today."Matty shrugged, tipping some green tea leaves into an infuser. "You?"

"Been fine, yeah." George dug his hands into his pockets, pulling out the tobacco and papers he'd resorted to using, telling himself he and Matty could go the other way home and stop at the shop for some proper cigarettes. He rolled up two cigarettes as he spoke, one for himself and one for Matty, who was always desperate for a smoke by the time his shift ended. "Went to see how much it'd cost to soundproof a room; really want my drums back from my parents' house."

Matty nodded, beaming at the familiar sight of George rolling up cigarettes as he poured the boiling water into a paper cup with the infuser resting inside. "Three minutes, mate."

When George proposed the idea of walking home the long way to go the the good shop - the one by their flat was stupidly overpriced, and George refused to shop there, though Matty didn't really mind - the short boy was surprisingly disgruntled.

"George, I'm not going the wrong way home just for cheaper cigarettes. I'm _exhausted_ , I barely slept last night, and you want me to walk for an extra twenty minutes? Fuck off."

"Matty, it's an extra ten, at _most_ -"

"I'm _tired_ , George, you know how slowly I walk when I'm tired, it'd be fifteen at _best_ -"

"Fucking hell Matty, walking half a mile further isn't going to make any difference, I swear to God."

"No." Matty crossed his arms, knowing that the turning that George would be taking for his frankly ridiculous detour was coming up soon.

"Christ Matty, fine - you go the normal bloody way and I'll go alone. Okay?"

George shook his head at the older boy, crossing the road in a huff, his fucking green tea clutched in his hands, knuckles white. It was all Matty could do to roll his eyes and continue the normal, _proper_ way home, now in a bit of a mood.

When Matty was still pissy as he walked through their front door, he decided to do a show: probably a quick one since he was so frustrated right now and it probably wouldn't take much to have him cumming, but it was something to do that would let out his petty anger.

He quickly turned his laptop on once he reached his room, before stripping out of his jeans and floral shirt and bending over to root through his drawer for a nice pair of underwear: a deep red, lacy set with a black ribbon. Matty stepped into them before crouching in front of his bottom drawer: the one that he kept his toys in, honestly looking through for the biggest one he could find.

In frustration at his lack of big enough dildos, Matty stalked into George's room, knowing he'd had a few _interesting_ relationships in the past that sometimes involved George wanting to fuck his partner with something bigger than his dick, which was quite impressive in itself. Matty knew exactly where to look in George's room - a tub under his bed, and immediately spotted a thick, purple dildo. _Perfect_.

Matty straightened out the duvet cover on his own bed when he returned to his room, wanting it to at least look nice at the start of the show, before logging in to the camboy website and starting the show. He wasn't in the mood for waiting around today, deciding to lube up his fingers immediately as the screen showing his cam flickered into life. Matty pushed his fingers into his mouth, bobbing his head on them and looking into the webcam, tugging his digits slowly from between his lips after a few moments, biting his fingertips as he did so, showing his teeth so the camera could see.

He wasn't feeling up for paying any attention to the chat right now: he didn't need compliments and requests, he just wanted to blow off some steam and earn some money at the same time.

Sitting up on his knees, Matty wiggled both fingers into his arse, biting his lip at the slight burn from the fast stretch before sitting himself down on his digits, immediately brushing them against his prostate and feeling his dick twitch in response. He sank down, pushing his fingers in all the way to his knuckles and whining at the sensation, rocking back and forth and curling his fingers.

Sam Burgess-Johnson didn't often work during the daytime. He was a photographer for several music magazines, doing photo shoots of bands and taking pictures at gigs mainly, though he occasionally did a standard modelling job with some prissy woman who paid fair too much attention to her hair.

The nature of his job meant that he had a lot of afternoons free: most of the photo shoots he did were in the morning, and he'd never had to get to a gig before seven in the evening before. Unfortunately, he didn't get many free evenings, so he missed a lot of Matty's shows: Sam had found the boy one night when he couldn't find any porn that seemed _real_ enough for him, so he had slipped into a camboy website. Matty had popped up on his recommended list after he filled in the list of ideal traits, and Sam had immediately watched one of his previous shows, tugging away at his dick as he did so.

The second Sam received a google chrome notification that Matty had started a show, Sam unplugged his laptop and picked it up from its position on his desk where he had been working, carrying it over to his bed, where he lay down and placed the laptop on his thighs after pulling his jeans down. He began to palm himself through his boxers as the website loaded, Matty's whines spilling out of the speakers and fuelling Sam's movements.

By the time Sam had settled down on his double bed with his dick in his hand, now fully hard, Matty had the purple monster of a dildo in his hand, and was rubbing it along his arse, teasing himself with the tip as he palms at his balls, moans falling unceremoniously from his parted lips, his head tilted back and his hair pouring across his cheeks and shoulders, falling in his eyes.

Matty took his hand away from his cock, using it instead to pull at his arse so he could begin to slide the slicked up dildo (with a condom - he wasn't taking any chances about whether or not George had taken precautions with his partners) inside himself. He winced at the intrusion: there was no way he could have prepped enough for this without using a smaller toy first. His face scrunched up slightly, and he flung his head forward, his chin almost hitting his chest as he forced the toy further inside himself.

He hadn't really thought about it, but it being midday in the middle of the week, there weren't many people about watching shows right now. Matty didn't know, since he wasn't looking at the chat at all, focussing entirely on himself and the camera instead, but he was barely making any money today. If he'd considered the time of day, he might have realised it was best to wait until later, especially since he was using such a disgustingly large toy: a lot of his viewers frequently asked him to use bigger toys, to stretch himself out all the way, but he had never really felt up to it until today. Really, this was a bit of a waste.

But, with the cock halfway buried in Matty's arse, he wasn't particularly thinking about how much money he was making, and more about the way that the obscene vein details on the plastic toy were rubbing against his prostate, creating the most exhilarating friction in a way that had Matty falling backwards against the wall. He pressed his chest to the cold surface, turning his face to the side so that the camera could still see his profile and the purple dick sliding into his hole.

The sight of Matty fucking himself haphazardly on the toy had Sam jutting his hips up, moving his wrist faster as he pumped himself, biting his lip at the sight of Matty's pleasure-filled sigh. He loved Matty's shows, he really did, and while he normally held back his orgasm until Matty's, he _needed_ this today, and within a few minutes of watching the toy disappear repeatedly into Matty's perfectly smooth arse, Sam found himself cumming, spilling onto his belly with a gasp and a final jolt of his hips.

Through his haze of pleasure and besottedness for the stunning man on his screen, Sam noticed once he came - before Matty, which turned out to be fortunate since the stream wasn't over yet - that the chat was almost empty, only a few messages popping up a minute. He hadn't clicked away from the stream, wanting to watch as Matty unravelled himself and spilled across his duvet, and it occurred to Sam when he noticed the lack of viewers that Matty would be making very little money.

Sam frowned at this realisation: he found it odd that Matty hadn't thought about the fact that he wouldn't make much money at all from this show. He felt bad for the boy, Sam supposed.

Matty was still riding the purple toy, his unequivocal moans getting higher and noisier as he wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking himself in time with the movements of his hips. He shifted slightly so that he was at a sort of three-quarter view for the camera, allowing his audience to see the movements of his hand on his dick as he came, stilling for a moment as he spilled across his thighs. Sam thought his expression was artwork in itself: something he definitely wouldn't mind photographing if he ever got the chance, his lips open and in a slight pout, his cheeks blushing the same pink as his mouth, and his eyelids fluttering, the long eyelashes creating flickering shadows across his flushed cheeks.

Without a second thought, Sam clicked on Matty's donate button just before the stream ended, getting in just in time to donate. Unsure as to how much Matty aimed to earn per stream, entered a three-digit number to the PayPal donation system, hitting confirm before standing up to grab a warm flannel from his en suite to wipe his stomach with.

Matty went to have his usual post-show shower, deciding to check his PayPal once he came back to see how much he'd earned. He didn't think he'd heard the sound of his goal being reached during the stream, which was a shame, but that didn't mean he hadn't got close.

He had in no way expected to see that over 300 quid had been added to his account when he got back from his shower. The sight of the sum made him almost dizzy; he couldn't remember ever earning that much during a single stream, especially not on a weekday. Shaking his head slowly, he logged back into the camboy site, deciding to see who had recently donated. His list of donators was only visible to anyone, but only he could see how much anyone had donated.

_'_ _daddy_sammy_ _' donated £250 at 15:07 today._

Matty couldn't quite believe that one person had spent so much money on him: that was more than his goal for a show, for fuck's sake; it was almost unfathomable to the young man. Deciding quickly that he couldn't just let that slide, he searched up the other man's profile on the website, typing out a message.

 _babyboytruman:_ _Hi Sammy! I just wanted to thank you for donating so much_ _in one go. Hope you enjoyed the show xx_

"Matty? You home, mate?" George's voice rang through the apartment as Matty hit enter, and he quickly stood, tying his silky dressing gown a little tighter to greet the boy.

"Hey." Matty grinned sheepishly, looking at his feet. "Sorry about earlier. It was childish of me."

George raised his eyebrows: he had expected that he would have to be the one to apologise first, Matty being as stubborn as he was, but this was a nice surprise. "I'm sorry too, love. You seem more relaxed now, though, eh?"

Chuckling under his breath, Matty pushed his hair back from his face. "Just did a great show. This guy called _Sammy_ paid me like 200 quid."

"Fucking hell, Matty, who is he?"

"Dunno," Matty replied, shrugging. "I sent him a message, we'll see."

"No offence, but what the fuck did you do to deserve _that_ much?"

Matty blushed, his lips forming an awkward half-smirk. "Used your massive dildo."

George rolled his eyes, wandering into the kitchen to put the kettle on. "Course you did. Want a drink?"

"Tea, please."

George went about making their drinks, handing one to Matty before continuing. "Make sure you clean it before you give it back, yeah?"

"Prick."

 


	3. Chapter 3

****

so because of the s*m situation ive changed some characters, baso this is what’s changed

****  
  


george, matty’s flat mate → nick

****  
  
s*m → george

 

** ~~~ **

 

After George's generous donation and the quick message Matty sent him, the brunet spent the evening making up with Nick properly. They curled up on the sofa together - perhaps a little too close on the sofa for two friends, but that was normal for them; they were both overly touchy-feely. They took from four until midnight watching films on Netflix, and Matty let Nick pick every single one as a form of surrender. He knew he was totally forgiven when Nick picked Weekend as the last film of the night.

Matty fell asleep twenty minutes before the end of Weekend, instinctively cuddling into the source of warmth next to him in his sleep. Nick chuckled gently at the tiny man, wrapping an arm around his back and pulling him closer to his chest as he finished watching Weekend for the ninetieth time.

When the film ended, Nick pushed Matty's shoulder gently to see if he would wake up. When Matty refused to open his eyes, despite having been awoken by the action, Nick huffed gently and picked up the skinny man. He kicked open the door to Matty's room, feeling the man's legs tighten around his waist as they entered the room. Matty was having none of it when Nick tried to let go of him after putting him down, keeping his legs firmly around Nick.

"I'll be lonely," he slurred tiredly, trying to tug Nick down into his double bed with him.

"You're always lonely," Nick retorted, allowing himself to be pulled down regardless. "Just tonight, you absolute hoe."

Matty nodded, rolling over to face away from Nick before shuffling himself backwards to slot against Nick's chest. The two men had been in their sleepwear during the films - Matty in his boxers, Nick in sweatpants - so the warmth of Nick 's torso was seeping into Matty's pack, and the older man couldn't help but snuggle back into it his friend draped an arm over his chest.

Nick woke up in the middle of the night needing the loo, and went back to his own bed afterwards, figuring that Matty wouldn't mind in the morning - and potentially wouldn't remember, considering he was half asleep when he got Nick to stay with him. He was right, as Nick normally was about Matty Matters: by the time Matty awoke in the morning, he had completely forgotten falling asleep with Nick's heat permeating his pale skin,

Matty was up before Nick it seemed, so he sat down on the sofa with a piece of toast with Marmite and put BBC1 on the telly, only half watching the news. He brushed his hands on his boxers when he finished the toast before picking up his phone from where he had left it last night on the shitty little coffee table in front of the sofa. He licked his lips and wiped his mouth with one hand as he unlocked his phone with the other and checked his emails.

Along with the usual shit from websites he'd signed up to newsletters from but couldn't be bothered to cancel, Matty had an email notification from the camboy website, telling him that he had one unread message. Without hesitation, Matty tapped the link to his message box, knowing it would most likely have been  _ Georgie _ .

_ boygeorgie: No problem, doll. You were gorgeous last night xx _

Matty grinned at the praise, thumbs hovering over his phone as he trying to scramble together a coherent sentence. When Nick traipsed into the living room a minute or so later and Matty still hadn't managed to think of a way to reply, he decided to leave it on seen for an hour or so. Maybe Nick would know what to do.

"Morning. Who's that?" Nick gestured half-heartedly at Matty's phone as he shuffled tiredly through the living room into the kitchen for a strong cup of tea. "S'it that, uh..." Nick waved his hand around a little as he struggled to remember the man's name. " George?"

"Mhmm." Matty nodded.

"What's he said?"

"Just how pretty I am." Matty's words were impossibly smug, and Nick couldn't help but roll his eyes at the little egotist on his sofa.

Nick went about making his tea, as well as a mug for Matty since the older man hadn't had any yet this morning as far as Nick could tell. Nick scrolled through his Twitter feed, smirking at Matty over the top of his phone when he watch the skinny man switch his screen off and place it firmly face-down on the arm of the sofa before crossing his arms over his chest, clearly resolving not to look at his phone.

Nick shook his head at Matty's somewhat petulant actions, looking away when the kettle boiled and the switch clicked up, turning around to pour the water into the prepared mugs. Not wanting to wait, he stirred the tea bags around, pushing them into the sides of the mugs before pouring a glug of milk into each and carrying them over to Matty. He left the tea bags in for good measure since they hadn't properly brewed.

He thought this situation with George was somewhat gratifying, actually: he hadn't seen Matty this clueless about what to tell someone in a  _ long  _ time, if ever, and he was planning to use the whole thing for his own amusement.

"Better repay him, though, eh?"

Matty rolled his eyes at Nick's cheeky tone of voice, glancing at his phone and almost reaching for it but keeping his arms steadily by his side. "He was kind of repaying me for the- the entertainment, really."

"Generous of him, though." Nick took a gulp at his tea; Matty didn't understand how he could handle it while it was still so hot. "Surely that deserves a little something extra, hmm?"

"What are you saying, Nick? That I should blow him? Maybe give him a cheeky handy in a Tesco's loo?"

"No. Course not." Still, Matty took  Nick's words to heart a little more than perhaps he should have, picking up his phone once more to reply to George.

_ babyboytruman: There anything I can do to say thanks? Maybe a private show? _

Nick listened to the tapping of Matty's phone as he typed out the message, looking up at the boy once he was finished. "What'd you say?"

Matty almost blushed -  _ almost _ , it took a lot for him to blush properly these days, but he felt his cheeks warm up slightly. Not visibly, but he could feel it. "Asked whether he wanted a private show."

He mumbled slightly, but Nick was accustomed enough to the ways that Matty slurred words to pick out what he meant, and couldn't help but grin slightly. " _ That's  _ more what I meant when I said about repaying him, you know."

"I know."

Matty left his phone screen on with his browser still open on his messages with George, waiting for a reply. By the time he got one, his tea was cool enough that he'd drunk about half of it, and Nick was up boiling the kettle again for his second.

_ boygeorgie: If you're up for it, I'd love that _

_ babyboytruman: Course I want to. When's good? _

_ boygeorgie: Tonight? _

Matty agreed, and the two shared Skype details, adding each other immediately in the hopes that it would make the evening go a little smoother, providing that Skype didn't decide to be the twat it often is.

~~~

"Matty love, you want another cuppa?"

Matty turned back to face Nick, peeking out from the kitchen to call out as Matty walked back to his bedroom. It was coming up to eight at night, and Matty needed to get ready for his call with George. "No thanks."

Nick gave him a lopsided smile, disappearing back into the kitchen. "Have fun!"

Unable to help himself, Matty rolled his eyes as he pushed his bedroom door open. "Oh, I will, Nick, don't you worry."

He left the door open for a minute, striding over to his chest of drawers to pick out a sock, dangling it on the door handle before closing himself off from his flatmate. They had decided to use the sock system when Nick accidentally walked in on Matty while he was camming, right back when Matty had just started out, and both boys wanted to avoid the mild embarrassment of Matty being naked, and the somewhat greater embarrassment of Nick getting a boner over it.

Matty wasn't entirely sure what George would expect: it was, of course, possible that George had only seen that one show, and assumed Matty always used toys that big, which was a complete misconception and there was no way he was having another go on that so soon after. Though, Matty was aware that that scenario was unlikely: surely no one would donate £250 to someone they had only watched once?

Shaking his head and blinking a few times, Matty unbuttoned his thin cotton shirt, shrugging it off at the end of his bed before undoing his flies and letting his old, stretched-out skinny jeans sag to the floor. He pulled his feet out of the ends before flopping down onto his bed, where he shuffled out of his underwear and wrapped his slender fingers around himself for a moment before stopping, pulling his hand away as if burned.

His laptop was already open and on Skype, waiting for George's call, but Matty decided to start off with his fingers so that he'd be ready when George was. Stretching out to reach under his pillow, he tugged out the small bottle of lube he kept there for emergencies since he didn't particularly want to root through his drawers for the proper bottle.

Matty winced at the coldness of the substance as he squeezed the fluid across his fingers, sitting up on his knees as he threw the bottle a few feet away. The Skype call tone rang out through the room as he pushed his index finger in his ass, wiggling it in to the second knuckle before leaning over to hit accept with video.

He closed his eyes as the calling sound rang through the room, sitting back on his heels, starting to ride his fingers slowly. Matty was so enthralled by the pressure that he didn't notice George had picked up the call, and was now watching wide-eyed, trying to wiggle out of his skinny jeans without looking away from the screen. His cock was already paying attention and he hissed at the contact of his fingers on his dick, wrapping his hand around it and stroking slowly as Matty sighed out loudly before looking up at the camera.

"Oh - hi,  _ shit _ ."

Matty's eyes fixed on the tip of George's cock that was just visible to the camera and bit his lip before adding, "Shuffle back a little, wanna see -  _ please _ ."

George smirked, pushing himself backwards on his bed, leaving his laptop at the end of the bed so that everything was visible - his now bare legs, the jeans pooled beneath his feet, and most importantly, his hand around his dick. "Your turn-" George gasped, putting pressure under the head of his cock- "Turn so I can see you, love."

Nodding eagerly, Matty twisted around so he was side-on to the camera, wiggling his finger out slightly to push a second in with it, groaning when he twisted them against his prostate. His hips bucked forward, and he tugged his bottom lip into his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose. George's breaths were coming out audibly louder, Matty could hear his gasps and sighs through the somewhat tinny laptop speakers as he watched the younger man sink further onto his fingers with a groan.

It wasn't long before Matty couldn't help himself from snaking his free hand around over his waist, trailing his fingertips over the front of his hip to wrap a hand around himself, eyes closing against the obscene sight of precome leaking onto his pretty bedsheets.

George was helplessly bucking his hips up to meet his fist, a lip pulled between his teeth as he took in the image of Matty, his hair flopping all over the place and his strained thighs quivering as he bounced gently, whines and gasps slipping from his throat. The pressure that Matty was putting on his patch of nerves had him stumbling dangerously close to the edge, his cheeks flushing to match his duvet and his eyes squeezing shut as he wiggled his fingers against his prostate.

George vaguely noted how quiet Matty was being now that it wasn't a proper show - none of the usual obscenities forced their way through Matty's lips, replaced by breathy moans and whines that had George coming far sooner than he'd hoped. Though, he supposed, he had nothing to prove to Matty as he came, the groan he emitted causing Matty to look over at the fullscreen image of George leaking over his belly.

It was the sight of George , breathing heavily and noisily which come on his chest, that tipped Matty past his breaking point. He fell forward, pushing his crown into the mattress with his palm still moving around his cock and his fingers in his arse, the friction becoming almost too much as he spurted over his own thighs and knees.

George's breathing slowed as he watched Matty curled over so beautifully, his back shaking as he turned to look back at George and slowly pulled his fingers out of himself, wincing gently as he did so. Matty flopped to the side, blushing once more when he saw the pale fluid striped across his legs, though he didn't find himself to be willing to move - he was potentially even unable to do so; his legs felt as though they might crumble underneath his weight.

Matty had to admit, that was a whole lot better than his usual shows.

~~~

Matty had spent so much of his time while him and Nick were together texting George that the younger man was tempted to turn the wifi off and tell Matty there'd been a problem with the company. Matty had really driven the nail in the coffin when Nick walked into his bedroom unannounced - there had been no sock on the door - to see that he was on Skype with George . His cock wasn't out or anything, and really, the only problem Nick had with it was that Matty had backed out on watching Strictly with him, saying he had a headache, when really he just wanted to talk to George .

Not that Matty really missed out on much with Strictly, but it was their  _ thing _ , and it was the principle of Matty basically bunking off more than anything else.

Nick hadn't been particularly salty if he was honest - Matty wasn't really lacking in the friend department, but Nick was eminently aware that he wasn't exceptionally close with many people other than himself and Olly, so if anything, Matty spending time with someone new was probably a good thing. He really couldn't deny that he was a bit put out by being effectively stood up by his best mate, though.

He'd left Matty and George to it after he'd gone to see how Matty's headache was, unsuccessfully, and had scrolled through twitter for twenty minutes or so by the time Matty wandered back to the living room, looking a little flustered and sheepish.

"Sorry, Grim."

Nick craned his neck around to see Matty standing behind the sofa, looking vaguely near his feet with a slight blush across his neck. "S'alright love. No need to lie next time, though, eh?"

"Course not." Matty looked up to make eye contact with his mate, smiling awkwardly. "Sorry."

"No worries, honestly." Nick patted the sofa next to him, fiddling around with the Sky remote. "C'mon, I recorded it. Can watch it now, yeah?"

And so, Matty and Nick had cuddled up together as usual, Matty with a blanket tucked around him that Nick had refused to share on the basis that he'd get too hot, and that Matty was only cold because he's practically a twig, which held verisimilitude, but really, Nick refused to share because he'd started to feel a little like he and Matty got a little too close when Matty wasn't single. He didn't want to lull himself into thinking that it was four years ago, because it wasn't secondary school anymore, and Matty hadn't been his in ages. Nick just found it frustratingly easy to forget that, and Nick couldn't help but become slightly disconsolate whenever reality wiggled its fingers at him in a caricature of a friendly wave..

Around halfway through the episode, Nick nudged Matty with his elbow in the ribs, chuckling as he spoke. "You know, you shouldn't talk to strangers on the internet."

"Sorry, Dad, I'll be more careful in the future." Matty rolled his eyes.

"Good idea, son. Getting your dick out's fine, just don't make conversation."

Matty shook his head, leaning against Nick's shoulder, and despite his best efforts to ignore the buzz of texts from George - Matty had set him a personalised vibration so he knew it was him - it was only a few minutes before he was sitting up once more to tap out a reply with the fastest thumbs Nick had ever seen on the small man.

Matty himself hadn't really realised quite how much time he'd been spending with George -  _ with  _ being a loose version of the term, of course, since they'd never met, and Matty meant texting more than anything, but  _ still _ , a significant portion of the week, give or take, had been spent with George at the forefront of his mind. In fact, it had been enough time that even in the last twenty-four hours, Matty's Skype messages from Olly had racked up to fourteen - all unread, simply ignored in favour of going straight to George's conversation.

He wasn't deliberately  _ avoiding  _ Olly, per se, but by the time he'd put thought into his reply to George, Olly was out of his mind once more, having only been in Matty's thoughts thanks to wanting to Skype George.

_ Actually _ , despite the six months that Matty had known his boyfriend, he had never trusted the man enough to give him his phone number. Olly had asked for in the first day they spoke, and Matty had been unsure about whether he trusted him, and that mistrust sort of stuck - there was just something about him that made Matty want to keep something private, as if Olly could find out anything else about him just by asking, because Matty knew he'd cave as soon as he asked about anything except his number.

Because, just like watching Strictly every week with Nick, it was the principle of the thing that stopped Matty giving Olly his number, though in a different way. Keeping it secret from him made Matty feel like he had some sort of power that Olly normally held, and he wasn't sure that he'd ever be ready to give away that feeling of control that he lacked in their relationship.

Matty hadn't even considered that it would be regarded as bizarre how he'd given George his phone number the second day of talking to him without a thought: in fact, George hadn't even asked, Matty had just been going out for the day, and had no data left, so he couldn't DM him. He hadn't questioned whether it was a good idea, or a safe one, because trusting George seemed so intrinsically clear to him as the correct thing to do.

~~~

On Thursday, Matty's shift started at nine, so he had to be up at seven, out the house by eight, and through the doors of the coffee shop by ten to. Thursdays, oddly, were a fairly slow day usually, with few customers coming in, and those that did being too tired from the week of work to cause too much trouble, mainly ordering simple drinks and the occasional brownie. Beyond the early start, Thursdays were, Matty supposed, one of the best days at work. He could practically sleep through it since he had to pay such little attention, and he got to leave at two, which left him the whole day to do fuck all.

It was at one o'clock that the tinkling, slightly obnoxious bell above the door rang, forcing Matty's head to snap up instinctively at the sound that encroached rudely on his daydream about what would happen if he wrangled his way backstage at a One Direction gig, and what he'd say to Harry Styles if he had the chance, and exactly what he'd like Harry Styles to say and do to him at the same time.

When Matty looked up, he did so with a glare directed at the source of the importunate sound - not necessarily the tall bloke who walked through the door, ducking slightly as he did so, though to a lesser extent than Nick, but moreso at the bronze bell dangling above the door. His gaze flickered down to the man, his eyes resting on the width of his shoulders rather than his face as he smiled as warmly as he could muster.

"Good afternoon, anything I can get you today?"

Matty's eyes travelled up to the customer's face as he gazed behind him at the chalkboard of items and prices, pupils darting across the rounded writing as he tried to come to a decision as fast as possible -  _ as if there was anyone he'd be holding up.  _ It was only after Matty had stared at the guy for a good half minute with a frown darting across his features that he realised where he recognised him from.

"I - sorry, you're not -" Matty's voice raised at the end in an upward inflection, leaving his sentence as an unfinished question when George looked down at him and his eyebrows shot upwards, his hands coming to cover his mouth.

"Fucking hell, what are you-"

"I didn't think you had another job, oh-"

"Doing here, what the fuck? Oh-"

"My  _ god _ ."

Both their sentences finished together, their eyes locking, wide and confused. Matty sidestepped out from behind the counter, walking around to lean on it. There was an old couple putting their coats on in preparation to leave, so they'd be alone in a minute and Matty therefore had no qualms about letting up his absolutely professional reputation.

"I literally live in the flat above this place, what the fuck?"

Matty let out a breathy giggle through his nose, completely unsure of how to react in such a situation. He'd never met anyone he'd cammed for before (except for Nick, though the fact that Nick occasionally hopped on his streams was unbeknownst to Matty), and he didn't really hook up with anyone since he just wanked on cam to let out frustration so he never dealt with seeing casual fucks in the streets, and this wasn't exactly a situation his mum had taught him how to deal with.

George was entirely more relaxed with the whole situation - thoroughly shocked and confused, but without a care in the world, because, honestly, he was faced with the cutest emo twink he'd seen in his life, so really, what was there to worry about?

"I'll have a coffee then, please. No milk."

Matty took a pause to collate himself before replying. "Boring. No squeeze of lemon or summat? Give it a little twist?"

He found himself almost cringing at his own words, but he was equally unable of stopping them, so he turned away and walked behind the counter once more to grab a mug and go about making George's coffee. "If you recommend it."

Matty made a point of not turning around again until the coffee was ready, praying that the blush he could feel heating up his face would have dissipated by the time his cheeks were visible to the man in front of him.

He didn't really think about what he was saying before he spoke again. "What I'd recommend is you taking me home."

George snorted lightly, taking his blue mug from Matty's frail fingers.

"Fuck off," Matty muttered, kicking at the floor gently. "Didn't mean it like that."

"I know, love." He paused. "I will if you want, though." Another pause as a grin spread across George's lips. "Don't really have to  _ take  _ you anywhere, though, just up the steps round the back of the building."

Matty looked up at him, his face still turned to the floor - or, more accurately, George's legs - and his eyes peeking through his eyelashes for a moment before he realised he wasn't in fucking Twilight, George wasn't Edward, and he didn't need to look at him through his lashes to seduce him because they're already mutually wanked.

"Please."

And so, George hung around the café until the end of Matty's shift, which was only really half an hour since the girl who was meant to take over from him was oddly passionate about the little coffee shop, and tried to spend as much time there as possible, therefore being the ideal candidate to take over from Matty slightly earlier than she was in the rota for.

_ surprise me and this fic are alive _

_ this chapter is dedicated to adam levine's daughter, who is actually called dusty rose levine _

_ loe i _

****   
  



	4. Chapter 4

George had left Matty to sort of potter around his flat while he cooked for them. It wasn't really a meal time, but Matty hadn't had lunch since it was such a short shift that he didn't need a break, and George was generally terrible at being an adult a lot of the time - too deep in his work to consider stopping to eat three meals a day. Two often seemed enough, even if his mates told him off for it - it wasn't like he was underweight or anything, so George didn't really see the issue.

There wasn't an awful lot of pottering for Matty to do if he was honest: George's flat was pretty tidy, and the fact it was open plan left little to explore. Even the bed - at least queen sized, Matty reckoned - was just tucked away in the corner, next to the sofas and telly. Not exactly a living room, but the equivalent, with a red, soft-looking plush rug between the large sofa and arm chair. 

Even just that corner left Matty reeling in awe: the telly was massive, perhaps exceedingly so, and the sofas looked like they didn't come cheap, and the whole flat in general left Matty feeling a little overwhelmed and out of his depth; thrown in at the deep end so to speak.

It was nice, though. The tidiness left it all feeling very modern, very safe, Matty supposed, and perhaps that was what he needed. It was consuming, however, how expensive everything in the flat looked, from the telly to the oven to the fucking speaker system that ran around all the walls, one of those fancy things that normally goes through every room in the house so you can play music everywhere at once.

Matty couldn't really see the benefit to it in an open plan flat, except for the bathroom. Still, Matty couldn't help but feel a system which he assumed would cost a couple thousand quid was actually worth it when you could just carry your phone into the bathroom with you.

The bed, while it was sort of tucked away insofar as being in the corner of the room, was width ways against a large panel of glass, looking over the city. Not on the side of the tea shop - Matty was sure he would have noticed it if it had been - but Matty could imagine how stunning the view must be at night. The flat was higher up than he'd originally thought, not having realised quite how many stairs they'd climbed.

"Is it rented?"

Matty's words came out abruptly, tumbling from his mind before he could stop them.

"I mean - this must be a hell of a lot of money, I didn't mean to sound rude or anything. Just curious."

George turned his head away from the saucepan of pasta on the cooker, looking over his shoulder at the short man who seemed even smaller in a flat with such a high roof, especially since he was holding himself in such a self-depreciating way, his shoulders seeming to cave in him.

"Bought it after a year." He paused, frowning at the way Matty was bouncing back and forth slightly. "You alright, love?"

Matty smiled a little awkwardly, running a hand through his hair as he turned away to shuffle towards the window. He hummed non-commitantly, because really, he was fine, and there was no real reason he felt so out of place - although, perhaps there was cause for him to be nervous, apprehensive, even, of being in the flat of a man he'd never met before and realistically knew little-to-nothing about, except for the fact that he had a little too much money to spare, or so it seemed, and that he was more than willing to give it to Matty if he put on a bit of a show.

Alright, so maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"Pasta's alright, yeah? Think it's got egg in, you're not, like, vegan or anything, are you?"

Matty let out a soft chuckle through his nose, turning back to face George with a grin - a proper smile, this time. "Fuck off. Pasta's perfect, thanks."

"Alright, well. Nearly done now, I'll let it cool a bit."

George set about mixing olive oil and spices and whatever else he picked out from the cupboard that Matty didn't really recognise, leaving Matty to look back and forth between the glass table with the posh chairs and the expensive sofas, trying to work out whether they'd be going for formal or not. 

By the time George had the pasta on weird half-bowl-half-plates, Matty hadn't managed to solve this predicament and was standing half on his toes, looking at his feet. When George saw this, he frowned, unsure whether to laugh or ask if something was properly wrong, but stepped towards the sofa, aiming to place the dishes on the coffee table before coming back to see what was up with Matty, but he barely got two paces past Matty before a small hand wrapped around his elbow.

"Can we, uh- do you mind if we sit at the table? Don't want to, like, stain your sofas or anything. Look expensive."

George raised his eyebrows at the request, but made his way back to the table instead, placing the dishes down so that they were just around the corner of the table from each other. "Not like I wouldn't have the money to get the upholstery cleaned, love. You don't need to worry about that."

Matty half-smiled, but slid into the chair that George had pulled out for him nonetheless, and waited until George had picked up his cutlery to start eating. His eyes began to water the moment he realised just how spicy George had made the oil, and he swallowed the pasta as quickly as he could before sputtering out a cough. George swore before rushing over to the sink, pulling open a cupboard and filling a glass with water to shove in front of Matty, rubbing his back as he downed the glass, swirling the last gulp over his tongue before swallowing it.

"Fuck - I'm sorry, I'm not really used to spice, I guess. Christ, it's like I have some kind of, like, internal calling to embarrass myself, I swear."

"Don't worry about it, honestly." George  tugged his phone out of his back pocket, wiggling it at Matty. "Want me to order you a pizza or something instead? There's a Domino's down the road that always puts mine through fast."

Matty felt a warm blush rise through his cheeks, and he stuttered slightly as he spoke, his words coming out in a bit of a shamble. "I - that's fine, honestly, I'm sure I can manage, like, I probably just need to adjust - and you made this lovely food, like, you put actual effort in, and that shouldn't go to waste, should it?"

George sighed a little, with a subtly amused smile on his lips as he bent over to wrap his arms around Matty's chest, leaning his head on Matty's shoulder and hoping to god that he was alright with affection.

"It's no problem, love. It's not like pasta's fine dining or anything, and I can still eat mine. I'll even eat yours if it makes you feel better about the waste."

Matty let out an indistinguishable breath before snaking his arms up and around George's neck as the older man's broad hands rubbed along Matty's spine.

"Does this mean we can move to the sofa then?"

Matty's lips widened into a grin as he held back a giggle, watching George's face as he pulled away from the hug, only to slide his hands under Matty's armpits and lift him off the chair. Matty gasped in reflex, trying to squirm away from the grip on his ribs. George had managed to dig his fingertips into a particularly ticklish spot of his, and Matty couldn't do anything but grip George's biceps and kick his legs out a little until George plopped him onto the sofa.

"I do have legs, and they do work pretty well, George."

George simply bit his lip and took a step towards Matty before placing his fingertips back on Matty's ribs, allowing them to dance across the small man's waist and over his belly. Matty wasn't far off of screeching from the contact, his legs contracting reflexively and his eyes beginning to water.

"Fuck's sake, George- oh my  _ god _ , stop, oh my god, this is so unf-  _ fuck _ , unfair!" He glared when he realised George was giggling at him and his confusion, and let his arms and legs go limp at George's relent, only to frown, because George was walking away and he hadn't said a word, and this was a very confusing, very new situation for Matty and he wasn't sure how to react when George looked like he was heading for the door, and it was his flat, and-

And.

George stopped at the little pile of letters on the stone counter of his kitchen, flicking through the pile of white until he found the Domino's flyer and strode back over to the man on his sofa, reduced to timidity. He was equally unsure of how to deal with the light frown and pout across Matty's face, and so opted for sliding onto the sofa a foot or so away from where Matty's shoulders were propped up diagonally against the cushions. Not a particularly comfortable position, George didn't reckon, but he wasn't going to intrude when he was so spectacularly aware that he was the reason for Matty's expression.

"Wanna pick a pizza?" George offered Matty a smile, and it seemed that was all Matty needed to perk up again, shuffling into a more upright position before shifting across the velvety sofa - Matty had no idea what the upholstery was made of, but it had felt lovely against his back where his shirt had ridden up as George attacked him so inhumanely - to sit with his arm touching George's.

Once George had ordered the pizza for Matty and brought his own pasta bowl to the sofa, and once Matty's pizza had arrived and George didn't have to get up again for a fair while, Matty felt it was appropriate to lean on the older man a little more, allowing his legs to tuck up underneath him. His head fell, gently at first, onto George's shoulder, allowing the amount of weight he placed on him to grow over time as he got more comfortable listening to the shitty romcom that George had shoved on TV.

Matty found his focus was much more on the heartbeat that he could hear through George's ribs; working out which beats were George's and which were his own, pounding against his skull.

~~~

It didn't take long after Matty had finished his massive pizza - George insisted on getting a large, because he'd decided it was the best value since he could save anything Matty left and have it for lunch tomorrow, but that didn't exactly go to plan when Matty ate the whole thing - for him to drift into a light doze on George's chest, his legs tucked up to his own chest and pressing against the side of George's thighs. 

Thing was, that George was pretty desperate for a wank, having been putting it off on the basis of laziness for most of the day, despite wanting to the entire time, and now that there was nothing distracting him, his fingers were getting twitchy, rapping against the back of the sofa where his arm was stretched out behind Matty.

After a few minutes of contemplation, George made the decision to carry Matty over to his bed, preferably without waking him, so he could sneak off to the bathroom for a wank, under the pretence of a shower in case Matty woke up. He slid an arm under Matty's knees and slid the other under his armpits and around his back, figuring this way, Matty's position wouldn't change too much, so he shouldn't wake up properly.

He couldn't pull the duvet out from underneath him without waking the boy up once he was on the bed, so instead, he tugged the crocheted blanket over him from the bottom of the bed. Matty pulled the edge into his chest in his partial sleep, almost swaddling himself in the blanket with a tiny, audible breath in and sigh.

Once George was fairly sure that Matty was back off to sleep properly, he snuck away from the bed, keeping his footsteps as light as possible, to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He turned the shower on, going as far as to make sure it was his usual temperature in case he had to quickly get in, in whatever unlikely scenario concluded with Matty somehow entering the bathroom despite the lock, and stripped himself of his knitted sweater and jeans, leaving his boxers around his ankles.

It didn't take long with his hand around his cock before he felt himself swelling. He'd been half-hard under his jeans for a fair while now, and it just hadn't been going away, so it was no wonder that he was hard with little more than a few strokes, slicked up by the lube he kept in the cupboard above the basin.

George had little to no idea how long it had been by the time he came - honestly, it could have been two minutes or twenty, but he did know that it was the biggest relief he'd had in weeks. What wasn't a relief, however, was Matty knocking on the door not thirty seconds after he'd finished. He was still half leaning against the counter, where he'd turned around and got straight to it after grabbing the lube, his fingers almost shaking from how much he'd needed this, and he was completely unprepared to face Matty.

"I know you're in the shower, but I really need a piss, how long are you gonna be? Might piss myself out here."

Now  _ that  _ was a relief. At least Matty hadn't heard what he was doing.

"Just a minute, love. Let me get dressed." He heard Matty snorting a little through the door, couldn't tell whether it was a sort of impatient huff or whether Matty actually  _ had  _ heard him after all and wasn't buying it.

George turned off the shower, tugging his pants back up his legs as quickly as possible before reclothing himself, hoping that Matty wasn't literally about to piss himself in his very expensive flat. He pushed his left arm through the sleeve of his jumper as his right opened the door, sliding it over his head as Matty barrelled through into the bathroom, clearly as desperate as he'd claimed.

Matty decided it best, when he announced that he should probably get back home after he left the toilet, that he shouldn't mention George's unmistakably dry hair.

~~~

George wouldn't say that he was disappointed as such when he stepped foot in Matty's flat, but it he couldn't not admit that it was somewhat underwhelming. Matty had managed to confine their time together so far to George's flat and walks pretty much, arguing that they hadn't known each other long enough for George to spend any real money on him for a proper date.

However, when Nick had bothered Matty enough about wanting to meet the guy he'd been hanging out with off the internet - something Matty expected more from his mum and less from his best friend - he had given in, inviting George over for a meal with them.

Nick had very kindly offered to cook, being far more competent than Matty, which admittedly wasn't hard, but an important fact considering without him cooking for them daily, they'd live off microwave meals. Unfortunately, Nick had got home from work a little late, and Matty had already been at George's, so he'd rushed their curry and somehow burned it. He wasn't previously aware that you could even do that, but he supposed he'd been proven wrong.

As if it couldn't have got any worse for Nick - he'd wanted to make a good impression on George, weirdly, as if it was him Matty had found online - Matty arrived with George trailing a few feet behind him as Nick was dialling the number for the curry place down the road. He'd been hoping they'd get distracted at George's place and the curry would be delivered and on plates before they got home, so they'd never have found out it was ordered in, but that went down the drain as he heard Matty's key turning in the lock.

In all honesty, Nick wasn't exactly thrilled about meeting George, but he wanted to make sure Matty knew what he was doing. He'd rather put himself through a few hours of feeling like shit than Matty end up literally dead.

Matty's face lit up as he stepped into their flat and smelled the curry, only for his expression to fall when the burning came through.

"How the fuck did you even manage that, Nick?"

Nick blushed, heat spreading up his neck as he looked at the tiles of the floor, waiting for Matty to bumble through. "Honestly no idea. Never happened before."

 

Matty let out a little huff through his nose in a sort of mix of amusement and disappointment - he wanted George to like Nick, he really did, and he was a little bit worried that everything else would go wrong, too. He pulled the tall man into a hug all the same, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek as usual when he got home after Nick, before stepping away so that George and Nick were looking straight at each other where they had been staring at Matty.

"George, this is Nick. Nick - George." Matty supplied introductions as if they couldn't possibly figure it out on their own, but still, the two men stepped across to each other, giving a quick handshake before stepping back once more.

"Sorry about the curry, man."

George raised his eyebrows, looking over at the pan. "Want me to have a go?"

What Nick  _ really  _ wanted was to go back in time and go the fiddly route home so that he didn't get caught in traffic, and what he wanted since that wasn't possible was to regain the air of superiority that he'd been hoping to hold, but he found himself struggling to put into words the fact that he could have another go.

"Sure, if you don't mind. Don't want it to happen again. Would be a waste." He stepped back from the counter a little, giving George space to observe the mess he'd made. "Doesn't normally go this wrong, I swear."

There were spices and the occasional escaped chickpea all over the countertop, and Nick felt his blush getting deeper. He was good with meeting new people normally, but this was embarrassing and he wasn't at all a fan of the situation.

Matty, however, looked to be having the time of his life, his chest shaking as he tried to stop himself laughing at Nick's predicament. Nick was almost a little offended at this, feeling he deserved the support of his oldest friend, and gave him a little shove and a glare.

"Sorry," Matty whispered, looking up at Nick before turning to George. " Nick is a wonderful cook normally. Absolute saviour, I swear."

"I'll just have to come back again and see, then, won't I?"

Nick wasn't entirely convinced either way as to whether George was being genuine or not about that, but the vigorous nod that Matty gave blew the doubt from his mind.

"I'll make my speciality next time. Crusted bean and pesto bake."

When George turned to smile at Nick's suggestion, it was one of the warmest smiles Nick had encountered, and even though it had only been a few minutes, he had no doubt that George would be wonderful for Matty in a way that he couldn't be anymore.

~~~

By the time George left, Matty following him back to his flat for the night (something he didn't do very often, to Nick's relief - he didn't think he could handle it if Matty abandoned him for someone he'd only met a few weeks ago), it was already half seven, and Nick found himself feeling more alone than ever in the empty flat.

The meal had gone well, eventually. George had been lovely to the both of them, and Nick had managed to find no obvious fault in his character. He didn't really know whether to be excited for Matty or a little put-out for himself, which had resulted in a lot of pacing and playing music as loud as he could without the other occupants of the building complaining just so there was anything but quiet in the flat.

Once it reached eight o'clock and Nick was still pacing through the flat, unable to stay still or sat down for more than thirty seconds at a time, if that, he decided he just needed to be around someone. So, he pulled out his phone to text John, hoping he and Ross would be home and willing to take him in for a few hours.

John always replied either instantly or in a few hours, and if he didn't reply straight away, it was because he and Ross were  _ busy _ , so Nick was extremely grateful when, less than a minute after his text was delivered, he got a reply.

_ Course you can come over :) need to catch up anyway, was going to invite you next week xx _

Barely another minute later, and Nick had a denim jacket shrugged over his shoulders and a pair of boots on, with the laces tucked down with the tongue instead of tied.

The walk from his and Matty's flat to John and Ross's was a ten minute one, more or less, and Nick made it five. The cold air of autumn kept him moving just as much as his restless legs did, the muscles in his lower back contracting in small shivers every few moments as the cold whisked through his hair and around his neck and ankles.

He was exhausted, too, after working from seven to two, and then cooking, and then having to talk to George for three and a half hours after the disastrous curry, and really he could probably have done with going to sleep, but he knew there was no way he could sleep like this. At least not alone; he needed some sort of company right now, whether it came from people being around or someone to sleep next to him.

He was so contented as John tugged him through the door into their flat from the freezing corridor that was only marginally warmer than outside that his brain practically shut down for a little while, anything John and Ross said to him seeming almost fuzzy as he thawed in the warmth of the heated flat.

It took Nick a few minutes to pull himself out of his state, and when he did, feeling the blanket John had draped over him and hearing Ross pouring a cup of tea, it took only a few moments for his eyes to well up, and for a tear to plop from his chin onto his wool-covered lap.

John was on him immediately, his whole body practically thrown into Nick's lap as he enveloped him in one of the tightest hugs Nick had ever received, other than from Matty. Nick found himself rubbing John's back when he didn't get back up again, as if John was the one in need of comforting, his hands ending up wrapped around John's waist instead as he accepted the kindness, keeping the man as close as possible to his torso.

John's weight only lifted from his thighs when Ross sat next to him on the sofa. John slid off his lap to sit on Nick's other side, leaving him with warmth surrounding him and a cup of tea being shoved into his hands by Ross. They sat in silence for a few minutes, which was exactly what Nick had wanted to avoid, but this was a good silence: not total quiet; there were breaths and the sound of John's hand rubbing the denim of Nick's jeans, and Ross occasionally shuffling on the sofa.

No one spoke a word until Nick was almost halfway done with his tea, and he was able to clutch it properly between his hands without it burning him.

"Matty's got a boyfriend."

Ross' head tilted to the side, a frown adorning his forehead as John wrapped an arm around Nick's shoulder, pulling him closer once more.

"I mean - maybe not a  _ boyfriend _ , not yet, but he's always at his flat, and they- they kiss, and they probably do other things. And-" Nick sighed before taking a deep, shaky breath- "And I'm not ready to handle them being  _ cute _ ."

Still, Ross and John said nothing as Nick thought for a moment, waiting for him to get it out. Ross had managed to sneak a hand between Nick's back and the sofa and was rubbing along his spine, slowly, gently, as Nick spoke.

"I still love him a bit, I think. I thought it was gone by now, but... It's not? And I don't think it will be for a while."

Ross and John shared a little look before John took a quiet breath, trying his best not to make the situation any worse.

"I - I don't want to be rude, because I know practically nothing about this yet, but... Maybe this would be good for you. Seeing him with someone else, spending a bit of time apart... Not like, weeks away from each other or anything, I don't think that'd help anyone, but..."

Ross half-smiled sympathetically at Nick, who was staring helplessly into his almost empty mug.

"He could be right, Nick." Ross offered, taking a sip of his own tea. "As long as he's safe and that, maybe you need some time to yourself. Maybe even find yourself someone to occupy you."

Ross extracted his hand from behind Nick when he took his final glug of tea, standing up and sticking his hand out to take Nick's mug. The moment he was gone, Nick slumped back into the sofa, his head lolling to the side that Ross had vacated.

John's palm was still resting on Nick's thigh, and it almost felt like it was keeping him grounded. "He does love you too, you know. Not like that, not anymore, but... You mean so, so much to him. Promise."

Nick rocked his head back over to his left, opening his eyes to gaze at John skeptically. "How do you know that? When was the last time you even  _ saw  _ him?"

If Nick wasn't in such a weird place, John probably would've rolled his eyes, but he stopped himself, opting for a little squeeze of Nick's thigh.

"Last week, actually. Didn't mention a  _ boyfriend _ \- not with that word anyway, though I assume it's the George he said about, but he did keep going on about how much he wanted you two to be friends. You and George, that is." Another squeeze, and a rub. "You really do mean everything to him. I doubt he'd still see this guy if you didn't want him to."

The idea that he held so much influence in Matty's life made Nick want to be sick. They weren't together, but they weren't apart, and Nick didn't really know how to handle that anymore. It was okay when he could ignore any feelings he had for the man, but the jealousy creeping through him inspired by George was ruining the whole facade.

"I love him," Nick burbled as Ross sat back down next to him, wrapping his arm around Nick's shoulder now that John's had dropped. The feeling of warmth across his upper back from Ross's forearm made John's hand leaving his thigh when he stood up more bearable, and Nick found himself leaning sideways into Ross, his legs awkwardly curling up to his chest.

"I know you do, love." John bent down to kiss Nick's cheek - thankfully the opposite side to Matty, because Nick was sure that would have set him off crying again - before announcing that he needed the loo.

"Tell me something good, Ross." Nick sniffed mid-sentence, and Ross's heart ached at the defeated tone in his voice. He wasn't entirely sure what Nick meant by  _ something good _ , but there was only one thing filling Ross's mind as a positive thing to tell him.

"I'm going to propose."

Ross waited for a moment, allowing the silence to stretch out in front of them like the sky, rolling on until he was sure that Nick wasn't going to complain.

"I know we're young and that, but I think it'll be good for us both. Already live together, seems logical." Ross paused, his eyes widening as he realised what he'd said. Nick and Matty had lived together on-and-off romantically for years now, but barrelled on, hoping Nick wouldn't be upset by it. "Got the ring and everything- well, no, but I've ordered it, should be in the shop next week."

"That's lovely, mate." Nick's statement was somewhat undermined by the sniff before he spoke. "I'm really glad. Proud of you. Never thought you'd get married before me and-"

The rest of Nick's sentence came out not as words, but as a heavy sigh, and Ross felt as if his heart actually sank.

"I'm so sorry, Nick." Ross shook his head slowly, disappointed that he had, for a moment, thought telling Nick about this was a good idea. "I shouldn't have said anything. Insensitive.  _ Fuck _ , I'm sorry, man."

Neither man noticed the sound of the toilet flushing and John walking back into the living room, closing the door behind him quietly when he realised Nick hadn't got any better.

"It's fine, Ross."

"No, it's not, I'm- that was awful of me, completely unnecessary, I feel like such a dick, honestly, I'm so-"

Ross was cut off by John striding around the sofa to stand in front of the two men, frowning and folding his arms. "What did he say, Nick?"

Nick looked down at his lap, not wanting to say anything for fear of either his voice cracking or blurting out the truth.

"Just said about how bratty you get in bed." Ross spoke with a grin and a slight chuckle in his voice, letting John know that it was a joke and that he shouldn't push it.

"Fuck off," John mumbled, gently kicking Ross's foot as he sat back down on the sofa.

"There it is, see?"

John couldn't help but giggle quietly at his boyfriend's blase attitude, before turning his attention back to Nick, his jaw dropping slightly. "Nick, I've- I've had a thought."

Lifting his head slowly to look up at John, Nick raised an eyebrow and shuffled around to face him a bit better.

"You don't need, like, a boyfriend or anything, you just need a fuck."

That was the first thing that had made Nick smile so far during his visit, a small chuckle stumbling from his lips. "Honestly, you're probably right. Fuck, it's been- what, two months?"

That got John excited, the man bouncing slightly on the sofa, his features lighting up as Nick accepted his suggestion. "Me and Ross know a few gay guys -  _ obviously  _ \- we could set you up, oh my god, that'd be amazing, right babe?"

"I mean, we can try, I can't promise that-"

"No." Nick shook his head, a smirk still adorning his lips. "You're right that I could do with a fuck, but you're not setting one of your mates on me. That'd be a disaster."

John sighed, slumping back slightly, not expecting Nick to say anymore.

"I'm gonna get a blowjob in the club toilet."

_ is this back _

_ is it not _

_ who knows _

_ find out next time _

_ dedicated to el for just being lovely and wonderful and encouraging love you el xxxxxx _

_ have a good night _

_ love u  _

_ mikey xoxoxoxooxoxxox _

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last chapter!! i forgot to put 3 and 4 out when i put them up on wattpad so make sure u read them first!!

so because of the s*m situation ive changed some characters, el was lovely and helped me with that thank u el, so baso this is what’s changed

  
  


george, matty’s flat mate → nick

  
  


s*m → george

  
  


Nick doesn’t like to go back on his word, and so, the next day, he found himself being driven to what he’s assured is a fairly high-brow, almost exclusive club by John and Ross. 

“Our mate owns it, so we get in fine. Normally just for, like, celebrities and that, but he gets security to let us in. Like A-listers.” John grins as he speaks, looking back over his shoulder and between the seats at Nick, who’s slumped in the middle of the back seat. “Cheer up, mate, not meant to be depressed about going to a club.”

Nick chuckles, sitting up properly, half-tempted to even put the seatbelt on but drawing the line at shuffling over to a proper seat space. “Who’s this mate of yours then? Who runs the club?”

“Guy called Jamie.”

“Matty introduced us a few years ago, reckon Jamie was into him, to be honest. Kept trying to buy him jewellery and that, apparently.” Ross supplied helpful information as always, and Nick couldn’t even bring himself to be surprised, honestly.

The club looks just as fancy as Nick had expected it to when John had told him it was exclusive, with nice little booths that all had fairy lights, and a proper wooden bar. Ross lead them both over to a booth a fair way into the bar - John and Ross’s usual spot, and slid all the way around the U-shaped seat, somewhat unnecessarily. John slipped in next to him, leaving Nick to take the spot opposite them, feeling a little alone compared to how on top of each other his mates were.

There was no more than thirty seconds of idle chit-chat before a sort of waiter approached them, dressed in perhaps tighter clothes than you’d expect in a restaurant, but not really revealing. He takes their order - Nick and Ross requested some fancy wine that John couldn’t even spell the name of, John, a coke. He’s a simple man with simple needs.

Nick didn’t really find himself to be listening to Ross and John’s conversation - something about dry cleaning suits, which wasn’t at all what Nick expected to talk about in a club, but he supposed that really, it was Ross and John. Instead, Nick spent his time with his eyes darting between the men in the club, desperately unable to see anyone he found attractive in any way.

Though, if all he wanted was a blowjob in the club toilet, that’s not all that important, is it? Nick reckons probably not, but he needs to at least be able to get it up for whatever twink eventually catches his eye, so they should probably at least have some nice hair.

Nick sat in the booth, tuning in and out of what the men opposite him were saying - they’d moved on to music, which was more Nick’s game, but still not all that interesting considering they were talking about some weird kind of pirate metal - and pretty much asleep on his feet. Or his ass, but idioms are idioms and not real life.

He couldn’t be sure how long it was before a tall boy with long, bouncy hair is sliding into the booth next to him, but he was on his third glass of wine by the time he did, and probably more grateful than he should’ve been for it since it meant he wouldn’t have to actively get up and look for anyone.

“You’re looking awfully lonely, honey. Third wheeling sucks, you know? How about letting me suck instead, hm?”

Nick was a little taken aback by the boy’s straightforwardness and had to take a moment to look over him in the dim light. The fairy lights were twinkling resplendently in his pupils, his hair falling across his cheekbones a little, striking spidery shadows over his jaw. Honestly, there was no way Nick could describe him as anything but dazzling. He wasn’t sure how he’d not spotted him in the club so far, but he couldn’t have been more thankful that he’d spotted Nick.

He tore his gaze away to look over at Ross and John, who were watching with little smirks on their faces - John might even have been suppressing a giggle - which Nick took as a sign of their approval.

“You want a drink, love?”

The boy shook his head slowly. “After, though.”

Nick tapped the side of the man’s thigh with a smile. “Hop up then. What’s your name?”

He began walking backwards slowly, holding eye contact with Nick as he slid up from the leather seat. “Harry.”

As soon as his name had left his lips, he was slinking away through the crowd, leaving Nick to chase after him, a chuckle on his breath at the game that Harry had started. He assumed the boy was headed for the loos, and so that was where he headed, hoping to god that his guess was right, because he really needed this.

Just as Nick expected he found Harry outside the disabled toilet, leaning against the wall with one foot propped up flat against it next to his other knee. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Nick raised an eyebrow, walking past him to push the door open. He grabbed his hand as he slipped inside, pulling a lightly giggling Harry in with him. The moment they were inside, however, the giggles stopped, Harry turning to lock the door immediately before Nick could push him up against it, dragging their lips together.

Harry couldn’t help but admit that Nick was a fucking good kisser - it probably helped that Harry just really wanted to suck his dick, but still, Nick’s lips felt fantastic against his own, and then against his jaw, neck, the skin of his chest that his half unbuttoned shirt left exposed.

It was all Harry could do to keep his hands to himself, the urge to thread his fingers through Nick’s somewhat messy quiff almost getting the better of him, but he wasn’t sure whether the older man wanted him to touch yet. 

Everything became clear, though, when Nick stood up straight again from his position sucking a bruise under Harry’s collarbone and wrapped his hands around Harry’s waist to switch their positions so that he was against the door. Harry knew what he was doing now, sucking against Nick’s neck as he reached down to fiddle with the buttons of Nick’s jeans, popping them all undone before dropping into a sort of odd squat on the balls of his feet, ass nearly on the floor, to pull them down.

There was a lot of what was probably piss on the floor, and if not piss then beer, neither of which Harry really wanted to kneel in - these were his best jeans, after all - and so he stayed in his position as he tugged Nick’s boxers down, pleased to find that he was already half hard.

He wrapped a deft hand around Nick’s length, biting his lip gently in concentration as he watched his cock fill. Harry squeezed his own thighs together a little, allowing himself the friction as he took Nick into his mouth, slowly at first, working up a rhythm before speeding up. The faster he went, the closer Nick’s hands got to his hair from his shoulders, and then the tighter they tangled in his hair, and as the clutch of his scalp grew, the more Harry’s cock enjoyed the experience.

Harry began to rock his hips forward a little as he sucked Nick, his cheeks hollowing and lips pulled over his teeth, trying, without any real conscious intention, to get himself off at the same time. He became so focussed on this that when Nick came in his mouth, he almost choked for the first time in a year, and that combined with the ache of his scalp and the sounds coming from Nick’s chest was what pushed him over the edge.

He continued sucking Nick until he was finished, and by the time he pulled off, Nick was almost wincing at the sensation.

Harry takes a moment to catch his breath a little, looking down at his shoes. Good job he didn’t wear the nice suede ones, they would’ve been ruined by all the piss.

“Thank you.” He was quiet with his words, but Nick heard, and reached a hand out to pull him up. Harry took it, surprised by the brief kiss Nick planted on his lips.

“No need. You, uh-” Nick almost snorted, but held back enough to keep it down to a chuckle. “You good, yeah?”

Harry closed his eyes with a grin. “Yeah.” He looked back up at Nick, reaching past him to open the lock. “I’m good. Pants’ll need a few washes, though.”

“Teenagers.” Nick rolled his eyes, leading the way out. “Still want that drink?”

~

Nick had texted John as they sat down at the bar, telling him that he and Ross could go if they wanted, that he could get home fine, and that he’d text in the morning, and since then, he and Harry had been chatting about menial things: what their jobs were - turns out Harry was a struggling model, whether they live with anyone, various favourite things - food, colour, drink.

It occurred to Nick after he bought Harry his second drink that he had no clue how old he was. He’d estimated at teenaged, and he’d not been corrected, but he was suddenly hit with the fear that he’d made a sixteen-year-old come in his pants.

“What, uh- what age are you, again?” Once the words were out, he realised that Harry lived alone, as he’d already said, so he can’t have been that young. What sixteen-year-old can afford rent? Come to think of it, Nick wasn’t even sure it’s legal for anyone under eighteen to sign a rent contract, so Harry must be of age-

“Eighteen.”

Nick wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or just as stressed as before. He’d been hoping for nineteen, really, because he wasn’t certain if twenty-five is generally regarded as too old to be sleeping with eighteen-year-olds. To deal with this slight inner conflict, Nick ordered himself another drink.

The third drink at the bar, after the wine in the booth, had Nick forgetting to care about Harry’s age anymore, and after their fourth, he and Harry left the club and called a taxi, Nick letting Harry announce his address to the driver - including his flat number unnecessarily - and accepting that he was about to stay the night with a guy who could still be in sixth form.

Fuck.

They exchanged numbers on the ten-minute journey to Harry’s flat, Nick utterly shocked by how quickly Harry could spout his number. It seemed that Harry took it upon himself to remember Nick’s number immediately and kept saying it back to himself for several minutes and Nick watched with his mouth slightly open, unsure of how to respond.

“Where d’you live, then?” Harry questioned as they slipped out the taxi, Nick shoving a tenner through the window. “You know exactly where I live, and I think I should know where you do as, like, insurance that you’re not going to stab me in my sleep.”

Nick sniggered at the prospect of wanting to hurt Harry. “Why would I want to hurt the boy who gave such a lovely blowjob?” He paused for a moment as if Harry might have a witty response, but he wasn’t sure that Harry was concentrating enough to reply. “Live twenty minutes that way,” Nick supplied vaguely, waving his hand off to the left, which he thought was about accurate, but really he wasn’t sure of anything right now.

“Cool.” Harry spoke slowly, really extending the oo in an almost sing-song manner as he lead Nick up the stairs to his flat. “I’m only first floor. Like to take the stairs so I’m used to it if the lift breaks, which it hasn’t yet, and I’ve been here nearly six months, so it’s bound to break soon, you know?”

Six months. Alright, so Harry’s been eighteen for at least six months, and it’s, what? End of November? So he can’t still be in sixth form. Nick knew now that he was safe.

“-quite small, I know, but it’s cosy, you know? So, like, I think it’s alright, really. And it’s cheap, which is good because I don’t think I could afford a rent any higher.”

 

Nick jumped back into life a little when Harry stopped talking, starting to look around as he worked out how to reply without sounding rude. “It’s lovely, babe. Promise. Mine’s not that big either.”

Harry snorted, wondering if Nick had been listening to him talk about his flat, or if he’d only heard about it being small and assumed he was talking penises. “Wouldn’t say you’re small.”

“Fuck off.” Nick waved a hand at Harry, taking the few steps needed to cross the living room and through into the pokey kitchen with barely enough room to make pancakes, Nick didn’t reckon. He went about getting himself a glass of water, helping himself to a lovely red spotty mug off the drying rack since he didn’t really want to look around for actual glasses.

“Make yourself at home, then.” Harry rolled his eyes at Nick’s comfortableness with just taking whatever he needed and then snorted. Nick could take anything he wanted from him, and Harry didn’t think he’d mind at all.

Nick drank his water while staring into the sink, plopped the mug into the washing up bowl when he was done, and looked up to see Harry staring at him with a sweet little smile on his face.

“You sleeping over then?”

“Think I spent my last cash on that taxi, to be honest, and I’m not really up for walking through town at, what-” Nick looked around the kitchen, looking for the time and finding it on the microwave. “Half two? Yeah, I’ll stay.”

It was while Nick was trailing after Harry to get in bed that Nick realised he hadn’t told Matty he wouldn’t be home that night, but the second he felt Harry’s arms wrap around his belly, he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to text him.

He’d be fine with George, anyway.

~

When it had got to half eleven and Matty hadn’t heard from Nick yet, he called George, who picked up his keys the second he saw the boy’s name on his phone screen and headed out the door to walk to his car as he answered. He was at Matty and Nick’s flat in ten minutes, and for the whole car journey back to George’s flat, Matty had been rubbing his hand over George’s upper thigh alarmingly high.

George hadn’t been surprised when Matty had practically pounced on him the moment he’d locked the door behind them, pushing him into the door and kissing him. He had been a little surprised when Matty quickly pulled off, using his hand to flip his hair out of his face and racing over to his bag.

“I brought my laptop,” Matty declared as he routed through his belongings. “Thought we could do a show since you love them so much?”

George smirked at him, walking over and smoothing a hand along Matty’s back as he tugged the laptop out and set it up at the end of George’s bed. George sat down at the pillow end, muttering his approval, and once the stream had started, Matty shuffled back into George’s lap, resting against his chest.

Matty didn’t say much to the camera - not as good quality as his usual external webcam, but it’d do, and no one seemed to be complaining, really - just said his hellos before George started kissing beneath his jaw. Matty couldn’t remember if he’d introduced George when he was saying hello, but he assumed it didn’t matter all that much.

He let George undo the buttons on his floral shirt, tugging the sides apart to expose Matty’s skin, arched into the feeling of George’s warm hands running over his flesh.

Matty came easy for George once his jeans were off and George’s fingers were in his ass, twisted around so the camera could capture everything. George let Matty wank him off slowly from the side, and once he came, Matty smiled sleepily at the camera before quitting the stream.

He was half asleep as he pulled himself off George’s knee to wander through to the shower, leaving the door closed but unlocked, phone left on top of the toilet as he showered, rubbing the come from his belly and thighs with a flannel. Matty could hear his phone going off as he showered, but he ignored it. Nick was with John and Ross, so he’d be fine, and if George needed him, he could just come in.

Once he stepped out of the shower and had a towel wrapped around his hips and another around his hair, he wiped his hands dry and picked the phone up, seeing that the person messaging had been Olly.

It was almost unexpected to Matty that Olly would be talking to him - he thought that doing a show with someone else would probably have made Olly leave him to it. He’d been messaging pretty much on the daily, and Matty’d been ignoring it if he was honest. He’d always been aware that he didn’t trust Olly enough for it to be a good relationship, and actually, he was glad that they lived those four hours away, far enough that Olly didn’t think going to meet him was worth it.

So he opened the messages to get rid of the notification number, dried his hair, and walked back out to the main area of the flat, seeing George smiling lazily at him from the bed.

“Let me take you out tomorrow.”

Matty couldn’t help but give in, nodding with sleepy eyes as he dropped the towels at the end of the bed, crawling back up George’s long body and letting him tuck them both in, Matty draped all over him.

~

George had meant that he wanted to take Matty out somewhere fancy, but Matty had denied him that, saying that it would be too expensive for their first proper date, and so they’d ended up tucked away in the corner of the local Pizza Express. George had wanted to at least take him to a different town so it was a bit more special, but Matty was perfectly content with the five-minute drive.

He did, at least, let George buy them both a three-course meal after George had argued once more that “we can get a doggy bag and take it home if you don’t finish, love.”

And now, a small box of pasta left in the car because Matty wanted to save room for pudding, Matty was dragging George through Sainsbury’s at three in the afternoon. Matty didn’t normally shop without Nick, mainly because until they’d moved in together, Matty had no idea that there were more than two kinds of beans, and about seven kinds of flour for different occasions, but George cooked too, so he was sorted.

“Will he want pinto beans, d’you think?”

George glanced up from his tin of chickpeas to see Matty waving a can of pinto beans around, trying to get his attention. 

“Yeah, just get two of everything.” 

Matty wasn’t sure there was enough room in their cupboards for two of every kind of bean, but he didn’t want to argue and went about throwing them all into the trolley, only for George to re-arrange and stack them.

“Your bags must be awful when you pack everything up if you just chuck everything in.”

“There’s a right way to pack food?” Matty wasn’t sure whether to frown at how inept he clearly was about food shopping - he didn’t have a clue that there was a wrong way to do it, honestly, he never went shopping with his mum as a teenager - or giggle at how strongly George felt about it.

“Course there is. Gotta keep cold stuff separate, frozen stuff separate, vegetable separate - makes it easier to unpack once you’re home.”

Matty nodded, almost in awe, before wandering over to the tinned vegetables. “Sweetcorn?”

“Yeah, but nothing else canned, love.”

He rolled his eyes at George’s conviction, but did as he was told for the rest of the trip around the supermarket. 

Once they reached the checkout and everything was scanned, the total showing as nearly fifty quid on the little sign, Matty’s eyes widened. He stepped cautiously towards the machine, not used to spending that much money on a shop - although, they did have literally nothing left in the flat, and they probably did need all of this.

He was stopped, though, by George, who got to the card machine first and was pushing his card in with Matty bumping into his side in an attempt not to let him.

“I can get it, George, honestly.”

“Don’t be silly, I’ve got you.” Matty looked at his feet. He knew he could afford this, just this once, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about spending George’s money when he knew George earned well over twice as much as he did.

Matty really wasn’t sure what he’d done in his life to deserve George. He liked to think there was some sort of balance where good people were rewarded, and George was one fuck of a reward, but all he’d done with his life was practically run away for a year at seventeen and drop out of school. He didn’t think any of that constituted being blessed with such a person as George, really, especially when George insisted on carrying the shopping up to his and Nick’s flat, only letting Matty carry a light bag in one hand and his pasta in the other.

Once they’d dropped it all just inside the door, Matty calling a greeting to Nick so he knew he was home, George pulled Matty in to kiss him on the cheek.

“Thanks for coming out.”

Matty frowned, his eyes darting around George’s face as he spoke. “No need to thank me. Honestly, I should be thanking you - you didn’t need to buy the shopping and that, but you did, and honestly I think you might be a real life angel.”

“It’s nothing.” George leant in to kiss Matty chastely, just allowing their lips to brush together before he pulled him in for a proper hug, no space between them and Matty’s face pushing into George’s chest. “Have a good night.” George mumbled as he pulled away, giving Matty a nod before walking away down the hall. 

“Night, Georgie.” Matty called after him, letting Nick pull him inside the flat.

“Heat’s going to get out if you stand around with the door open, you lemon.”

It was only when Matty and Nick were curled up together on the sofa with Netflix on in the background once more that, with Matty against his ribs and breath fluttering over his collarbone, Nick realised how childish he'd been to fuck off to the club just because Matty had a sort-of-boyfriend. 

“Sorry, love. Shouldn't have disappeared on you like that.”

Matty hummed against his skin non-committedly. “You're right.”

“Sorry.”

Matty left a beat, closed his eyes and let himself melt into Nick's side. “‘s okay.” Another beat. “John texted, told me you all went to that club.”

“Still should've told you, though. Not good of me.”

Matty seemed steadfast to ignore the prospect of Nick being a bad friend. “He told me all about that boy you went off with and all. Didn't know his name, though, you slag.”

Nick snorted, almost offended that Matty would think he'd fuck around with someone with knowing his name, but he was well aware he'd done it in the past and Matty was pretty well justified. 

“Harry. Lovely boy, really.”

“John said he was young. Fit, though, he was pretty insistent.”   
  


“Yeah, he wasn't exactly a pensioner.” Matty craned his neck to look up at Nick, eyebrow raised. “Eighteen.” Nick breathed out, closing his eyes against Matty's drama queen gasp. 

“You monster, Nick. Tell me everything.”

A grin spread across Nick's face, a full-on beam even, as he recalled every little piece of information Harry had told him, Matty, for once, listening, giving him full attention.    
  


~

George had to go into the office (or an office: in this instance, it was the office of a small music magazine that wanted him to do a few shoots) - for once - and so he'd woken up a disgruntled Matty up at half seven, who had proceeded to ignore him for the sake of a shower. George rolled his eyes and went about making breakfast - scrambled eggs and toast. He was just stirring the eggs around the pan when Matty’s phone, left on the counter last night, began to buzz almost violently with about a million notifications. 

George felt it would be irresponsible not to check that everything was okay considering the determination of whoever was trying to contact Matty. Could've been Nick, George reckoned, and he wasn't planning on replying or anything, so he decided - hoped - he was justified in sliding the phone across the counter. 

The notifications were all from Skype, which George thought was a little odd - who uses Skype as their preferred method of communication? - from Olly. As George skimmed through the messages, he couldn’t help but frown at the general theme of them. Olly didn't seem particularly happy with Matty, but he hadn’t said why: just that he was angry, and he thought he’d meant more to Matty than that.

George stared at the lock screen on Matty’s phone for a good few minutes as he stirred the eggs, trying to work out whether it was more ethical to own up about looking at his phone and confront him about Olly or to let Matty tell him in his own time. The decision, however, was made for him when Matty bumbled into the main area from the bathroom, tugging George’s Champion jumper over his torso to find that it fell to his mid-thigh.

He sauntered over to the counter George had turned around to lean against as if he hadn’t just flashed the younger man, going in for a full-body hug, his arms wrapped around George’s waist and his legs slotted between George’s slightly parted ones.

“Hey, love.” George mumbled, resting his chin on Matty’s head. 

“Morning. Sorry,” Matty pulled back. “I’ll let you get the eggs off.”

George dropped Matty’s phone back onto the countertop quietly before Matty could notice: he’d ask about it once they were eating, and he didn’t want to let the eggs burn. 

“Ketchup?”

“Please.” Matty went about routeing through the fridge for the ketchup while George spooned scrambled eggs onto their plates. “On or off? The toast.”

“On. Where did you put the roll things?”

George had bought some fabric plate mats after Matty’s aversion to making any sort of mark on his nice glass table. He only used them when Matty was there - which was the only time he ate at the table too, really. “Second drawer. You don’t have to, though. I can do it.”

“No, you cooked, I should lay the table.”

George snorted. “It’s scrambled eggs on toast, not fucking fine dining.”

“Shut up.” Matty giggled, rolling out the fabric onto their places before returning to the drawers for cutlery. “You got any orange juice?”

“Should do. Sit down, love, I’ll get it out.”

Matty grinned, biting his lip a little - still not used to being treated like this - and tucked himself under the table. “Thank you.”

George set everything down on the table - including a glass of juice for Matty - and they were nearly done before he brought up the messages. He hadn’t wanted to ruin the meal.

“Matty, I don’t mean to like- intrude, or anything, but while you were in the shower you got a load of messages from this guy - Olly - and he didn’t seem very happy? I didn’t reply or anything, just the notifications popped up, and- I don’t know, I was just a bit worried.” George paused to see if Matty was about to answer before tacking an extra bit on the end. “Don’t reckon you’d ignore a friend or anything, so like, there must be something else to it.”

Matty finished his mouthful, and then another, before replying, not really wanting to do this, but knowing he had to get it over with at some point. It’d been nearly three months now, and really, he was starting sounding far more pretentious than he’d like with the amount of avoiding labels with George he’s been doing.

“Don’t be angry. I mean, you can be if you want, but be nice.”

George nodded, reaching across to rub a thumb over Matty’s wrist bone.

“Alright, don’t get the wrong picture about this. Like, listen to the whole story before you, like, decide what you think. Please.” Matty was staring down at George’s hand over his, finding it impossible to snap his gaze back up to meet George’s. 

“Olly was- is, I guess- sort of like an online boyfriend. Like- listen, please- we never met, we never even exchanged numbers. I didn’t want him having mine because I never really trusted him all that much, but he was a camboy too, so he didn’t mind what I do, and I’d been struggling to find someone who didn’t care that I fuck myself on camera, you know?

“And- I’m not sure, because I never talked to him about it, but I think he basically just wanted- not sex, but sex? You know? Like, whenever we called, he’d ask me to do something for him, and it just- I always felt so bad if I wasn’t up for it. ‘Specially if I’d done a show, because like, I’d done something for the rest of the world, so I should have for him too?

“But we never really spoke, even - not properly, not about stuff past sex and how our days were. That’s one of the reasons I’ve not been replying. Just realised it wasn’t worth it. Don’t think I even know his embarrassing middle name.”

“Mine’s Bedford.”

Matty snorted, finally looking up at George, unable to stop the grin spreading. “Bedford? I thought fucking Timothy was bad, but at least it’s not a fucking town. Christ, your parents must have hated you.”

They were both content to simply laugh at George’s misfortunate name for a minute or so, bent on avoiding the more serious topic of Matty effectively cheating on his sort-of boyfriend with George.

“Really, though, Matty, it’s okay. Promise. Honestly, I’m glad you’re not talking to him anymore, he seems like a prick.”

Matty swallowed his last mouthful before sliding out from the table, picking up both of their plates and his glass. “Still would be if you hadn’t turned up, though, wouldn’t I? Should be thanking you, really.” He dropped the plates and glass into the washing up bowl, before sliding open his phone, tapping through to Skype.

“Want to do the honours?” Matty held out his phone to George, open on the screen to block Olly.

George pressed block, his heart practically swelling at Matty managing to move on, despite only having known about Olly for all of ten minutes. 

“I’ve got to get off to work, love, but I’m so proud of you for sorting this out. Love you.”

Matty beamed, tapping George on the bum playfully before wandering off to plonk down on the sofa. “Do your teeth.”

~

When George got home two hours later, he barely got through the door and his jacket off before Matty pounced on him, mumbling something about wanting to “rub it in Olly’s face, show off a bit”. He had his external webcam ready this time, but by the time Matty was bouncing in George’s lap, they’d both practically forgotten that they were streaming. It was when George was sucking a bruise into Matty’s throat and Matty was desperately trying to vaguely look into the camera, put on a bit of a show, that he realised this wasn’t what he wanted to do anymore. 

He didn’t want to make all this public, not what he did with George, at least, and so, once the stream was over, and they’d had their power nap, Matty told George he was going to close his camming account. 

And, of course, that was exactly what he did - but only after he’d let George cook him dinner.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if uve stuck with this then thank u v much!! i'm sorry about the somewhat confusing switch of character but tbh i was not writing sam anymore after all the drama with him being gross lmao
> 
> i hope u enjoyed this
> 
> love u lots
> 
> mikey xoxoxoxoxooxxo


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